


Chess After Talon

by OldboyJensen



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Families of Choice, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 05:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14253672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldboyJensen/pseuds/OldboyJensen
Summary: In the hospital wing with Gerard, Gabriel Reyes gets a visit from the watchpoint custodian who offers to play a game of chess.





	Chess After Talon

            Gérard was stable. The rhythm of the beeping was stable. His breathing, despite being too shallow, much too shallow, was stable. The pounding in Reyes’ head was stable. His heartbeat was not.

            He had been there for the whole process. Even when Angela very clearly wanted him to not be, Commander Reyes stood in the corner scowling quietly. During the whole operation, he was there. Not, of course, that it made much difference to Gérard. Now, Reyes rested his head in his hands and tried to match the pulsing of his migraine to that incessant beeping.

            The squeak of rubber soles on linoleum pulled Reyes out of his painful meditation. The automatic door slid open with the, slightly higher pitched, beep of an accepted ID card, and the boots entered the room. Reyes didn’t look up.

            “Did you finish filing the report?”

            “Um, hopefully, he did? I can ask him if you want.”

            Reyes released his head and looked up at the short woman in watchpoint blue, eyebrows raised. Her utility belt, like always, was overstuffed, and a pair of rubber gloves wedged under it flopped about as she approached. A battered carboard box was tucked under her arm. When Reyes’ eyes met hers, Jensen Kidd, sometimes spy most times custodian, smiled awkwardly.

            “Oops wrong kid? Didn’t think I clanked and jangled enough to be Jesse.”

            He shrugged in a halfhearted, Commander Reyes fashion.

            “It’s an off day.”

            “Yeah, just a little.”

            “How did you find out?”

            “Jesse, then Angela, then the news.”

            Jensen sat on the floor by Gérard’s bed and placed the box down before opening it and pulling out the faded black and red board. She doesn’t add what she learned from each source, but in that order it all made sense.

            “I would have been here sooner but somebody trashed the kitchen. The coffee machine is busted to hell, bean juice was all over, and at least one mug’s worth of porcelain was on the floor. And before that I had to mop up some fun stuff in the training room because some angry cowboy got wholloped in the stomach by a full aggresse setting drone.”

            “Huh, at least it means he ate,” Reyes mused, tired, before examining the chess board, “I haven’t seen old faithful in a while.”

            “Yeah it’s disappointing how few samurai have tried to kill me recently. I just can’t get Genji to do it for some reason.”

            Jensen started setting the black plastic pawns down in their line on her side. Reyes slid from his chair and took his place on the other side of the board with his back to Gérard’s monitor.

            “Have you tried your puns?” He spoke low, holding out a hand to collect his soldiers.

            “Yeah,” she handed him white pieces one by one, careful not to make a clatter by dropping any, “I’ve tried everything, but the nearest I’ve gotten is glares and a couple warning shuriken,” she paused, watching his face, “that’s a joke. He hasn’t tried to-“

            “I know.”

            “Okay, just making sure. It was bad taste. I’m sorry.”

            With both sides set up, the players bowed to each other. Normally they would joke about it. This time, it was too necessary. Reyes was careful to bow slowly, but he still grimaced at the shifting of pain in his head. Jensen looked away before he could catch her.

            “It’s your move, Chief.”

            Reyes toyed with his far left pawn, thinking.

            “We’re essentially alone, Kidd. You have informality permission.”

            “You want me to call you daddy?”

            Reyes started to stand to walk into the woods near the base and leave forever.

            “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

            “I don’t hate you.”

            “Oh good.”

            “I hate you and Jesse as a unit and your stupid game.”

            “…That’s fair. I won’t count this one, as a favor to both of you.”

            “Thanks Kidd.”

            They played in silence after that. Reyes’ moves became increasingly aggressive and offensive, keeping Jensen from getting any strikes in of her own. She knew better than to play half-assedly or let him win, and the two set their jaws at nearly the same time in nearly the same way. The hospital room faded into a sea of black and red, with black and dirty sort of light grey plastic armies clashing and dancing against each other. Jensen’s knight took Reyes’ pawn then fell quickly to his rook. The rook went after Jensen’s queen, who she protected with the sacrifice of a bishop. Tactics, tactics. Reyes had the upper hand, Jensen had the upper hand, Reyes made a check, Jensen fled. Like some sort of pacemaker, the beeping dictated the rhythm of play so much that it faded into the landscape of the game. It was nearly there, nearly there. Jensen down to her king, queen, and a pawn. Reyes still with half his pawns and a well tucked away king. And his rook. There were two moves left. Barely protected, taunting, goading, the king was there. Right there for the taking. Reyes lifted his rook and took the queen.

           “Checkmate.”

            The pawn, which had sat behind and to the left of the queen, struck the rook down.

           “Uncheck.”

            Reyes blinked slowly. The beeping was suddenly very loud, and he just stared at the board. Gently, Jensen took his left hand in hers and pried it open, putting one of her captured pieces in his palm. The dents from his nails began to fade from Reyes’ skin.

           “I surrender,” she said quietly.

            He inhaled sharp, glowering.

            “Don’t give up for me. I can take a beating.”

             “I can’t give one with a pawn. You win, dad.”

              Reyes rubbed his eyes, glancing up at Gérard then down at the piles of captured plastic. He rubbed his eyes again. Jensen pushed the board to the side and scooted behind Reyes on her knees. Her arms wrapped around him. Reyes sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

          “This isn’t your job.”

           She rested her chin on his shoulder.

          “Mm, maybe, but I need volunteer hours to qualify for employee of the month.”

         The captured pawn rolled well between Reyes’ thumb and forefinger. When the cool plastic began to warm, he swapped it out for another one. His right hand flexed on his knee. He refused to wish the beeping would stop, even as his head throbbed in time.

       “What are you recording it as?”

       “Elder care.”

       “Brat.”

        Jensen grinned and locked her fingers together over his forehead. Just barely, the throbbing lessened with the pressure. Her thumbs rubbed circles into his temples.

       “I would have offered to assist Captain Amari, but I’m not trying to die today.”

       “She’s also in Turkey.”

       “Boo, you sound like Jack.”

        Reyes grimaced.

       “Hey… look, I know it won’t be a fun conversation, and y’all are gonna argue, but Chief,” She lowered her voice, “Jesse was at the range when the kitchen was trashed. I saw Jack when I finished. He had a mug of coffee.”

       Reyes set the piece down and reached up to poke Jensen’s forehead. With his free hand, he scratched the side of his jaw and squinted at the door.

      “Huh. You should charge him for damages.”

      “But you know what I mean, right?”

       He tapped her forehead with the pads of his fingers.

      “Just because we’re on the same page doesn’t mean he’s going to do shit.”

      “Fair, but he trusts you, and he’s fucking pissed.”

      “Mhm.”

      “On that front… what do you need me to do?”

       Reyes turned his head to look at her she met his gaze with side-eyeing. He realized that her hands on his forehead were trembling. He remembered watching her spend hours practicing knife work- just how to draw one alone, never being quite fast enough for Gérard’s standards. He remembered choking laughing as Jesse and Jensen tried to introduce Gérard to bubble tea. The years of training, and even earlier, the trust building. He and Gérard visiting the problem child who took to the latter out of some fixation on his accent and coin tricks.

      And, of course, Reyes remembered the watchpoint transfer form he had filled out the morning of the attack, because Lacroix would need as many good and trustworthy people as possible to get dug in at the new office, and because maybe it was time to let her work more than once every few years.

      “I need you to stay out of a coffin.”

      She paused, watching his face, then withdrew a hand and saluted.

     “I will do my best, Chief.”

     Her smile faded quickly into solemnity.

     “But really, can I get you anything? Tea, water, scotch?”

     “No, but I could go for another game.”

      Jensen nodded and began the reset. It was only after she had eventually been called away to deal with a bathroom issue that Reyes discovered the bottle of migraine meds in his pocket. He glanced at Gérard again, and stole the wounded man’s untouched glass of water to take them with.

 

 


End file.
